Pride, Prejudice and Potions
by darksider69
Summary: Severus Darcy and Hermione Bennet battle wits, wills and wands in a crossover romp between Jane Austen and J.K. Rowling’s worlds.
1. Chapter 1

**_Pride, Prejudice and Potions _**

_A crossover fanfiction_

**Story Disclaimer: **This story is based off characters, situations and locations owned and created by J. K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing, Raincoast Books, Warner Brothers or any other company that own copyright to the Harry Potter series. The story may include characters and locations owned/created by other parties including but not limited to Joss Whedon, George Lucas, Lucasfilm, Fox, Paramount, Random House, Penguin Putnam, Inc., Ballantine Books, and a variety of other people. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I also do not own the brilliant words of Miss Jane Austen, several of which you may see here in variations.

**Reader Instructions**

Take these recognizable characters and banish any facts you previously knew about their familial ties, financial status, history, animosities, friendships, and, in some **very** unfortunate circumstances, gender. Instead, concentrate on only their personalities and appearances- for these characters have been cast in a story they have never before played a part in.

**_Chapter One_**

_It is a generally acknowledged truth that life for a wizard residing in the world of non-magical folk is fraught with difficulties and requires a significant amount of deception. Should said wizard also be single and in possession of a large fortune, he would be wise to safeguard his bachelorhood. For the seemingly pastoral innocence of a neighbourhood may conceal witches with schemes to his wealth and power or, decidedly more dangerous, mothers of marriageable daughters lying in wait for him._

**Hertfordshire, England, 1811**

Mrs. Bennet did not restrain her excitement as she entered the assembly rooms for the ball she had earlier proclaimed would bring some form of good fortune for one of her two daughters. Hermione and her elder sister Harriet were familiar enough with their mother's effusions and allowed her free reign of noisy speculations with nary a word.

"Besides," observed Hermione, "we can hardly censure _her_, as we have just as much interest in the newest addition to our little society."

The new neighbour, a Mr. Cedric Bingley, was a single gentleman who had recently leased Netherfield Park, a grand estate not far from the Bennet's own smaller, in the country village of Longbourn. It was rumoured he had come up from London with a large party of friends, and had promised to attend this evening's public dance.

That his party might also include other rich men who would be as enchanted with her daughters as Mr. Bingley, was never doubted by a _most _determined Mrs. Bennet.

"Sir Arthur Lucas saw him in a new carriage with four perfectly matched Norfolk Trotters," she said dreamily. "He must have very fine taste and a great fortune to afford such luxury. You girls _must_ be introduced tonight. I shall have Sir Arthur's promise to do it."

Her plotting continued, "I see Miss Lucas behind you, Harriet, you and Harriet must stand by her as she is ever so plain and will make you both look all the lovelier to any gentleman."

"Mama! Veronica Lucas is my closest friend!" Hermione protested.

Her mother ignored her. "Oh, do go over! The musicians look as if they will be starting very soon and you must find dancing partners, for your cheeks want colour."

"Yes, Mama," Harriet obediently replied, as she pulled her sister away. Their mother was very satisfied when a short time later both daughters, and even the unfortunately freckled Miss Lucas, opened the ball with the first of many acceptable partners.

The Misses Bennets and Miss Lucas had been refreshing themselves by an open window after a particularly lively reel when the Bingley party entered later, drawing the attention of most within.

"Which is he?" Hermione wondered aloud.

"The handsome one with the brown locks and ruddy cheeks is Mr. Bingley," answered Miss Lucas, "and the two ladies are his sisters, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst."

"Goodness, what opposites in looks! I do not think I have ever seen such a shade of flaxen before. Surely they must be his half-sisters?"

"I believe my father inquired after that as well. It seems that Mr. Bingley favours his late father, whilst his siblings favour their mother's side of the family."

"They are very elegant," Harriet ventured nervously. "I think I should feel a bit overwhelmed at meeting such fine ladies."

Despite their silks and jewels, Hermione decided their looks could be vastly improved upon had they not appeared to believe themselves so much above their company. Their brother, however, was smartly dressed, well formed, clearly pleased with all he saw and smiled broadly. She liked him immediately.

"And the other two men?"

"The stout one is Mr. Hurst, husband of the eldest sister. The taller is a Mr. Severus Darcy, and Mr. Bingley's dearest friend."

A married man held little interest to a single lady, therefore Hermione regarded the other. Mr. Darcy looked the gentleman- black velvet from head to foot but for his stark white shirt and silver silk cravat. He favoured trousers rather than breeches which served to emphasize his height over the entire room. Sooty tresses draped down the sides of his face to his shoulders, framing his high forehead and heavy brow. Most intriguingly, he was completely unreadable.

Hermione wished she could take a curious nibble at the thoughts of this man who schooled his expressions so well. Unfortunately, before she could banish such foolish notions, her mind traversed the space between them and skimmed the edges of his intellect in a tiny effleurage.

She saw the head of a powerful horse striving below firm dark gloves, and recognized the pastures around Netherfield flying by. Senses filled her; a brisk wind whipped over her cheeks and through her hair, the musty dryness of freshly cut hay fields and decaying leaves, then emotions… control…satisfaction… and… relief? It was the work of but a moment.

Hermione fled him, horrified at her unwitting invasion. "_You cannot swoon now_," she told herself, struggling to gasp for a breath, " _he will **know**_."

She dared a peek and felt ill as she witnessed Mr. Darcy's entire countenance change from disinterest, to vigilance. He slowly perused the room, hunting for his trespasser, while she stood frozen, unable to obey her fear's command to look away despite the gaze creeping closer to her corner.

Sharp eyes that glinted like winter's icy night met hers for a quicksilver moment before she abruptly turned her back to him and retorted to her friend,

"Tall he may be, but what a countenance! If rumours of vampyres in the neighbourhood have not completely panicked the countryside by morning, I shall eat my hat." She huffed the last words out, just beginning to regulate the wild beating of her heart after her hairbreadth escape.

Miss Lucas stifled an unladylike laugh. " 'Mione! Mr. Darcy may well resemble Nosferatu, however he is a gentleman _and _his fortune is twice Mr. Bingley's."

"And therefore is entitled to double the deference? Come now, Ronnie, you know me better. While I will not reprove the man for his sour looks, he must earn my respect, or admiration, for I shall not grant it based upon the crowns in his pocket."

"Girls!" Her mother interrupted their laughter. "Have you seen the two gentlemen? Do you not think Mr. Bingley is very good looking? Yet how can he compare to Mr. Darcy? So tall! So excessively handsome and," she pitched her voice lower, "they say he has ten thousand a year."

Hermione was about to caution her mother when Sir Arthur Lucas approached with the very gentlemen trailing behind. She refused to lift her bowed head, and was grateful the darker of the two declined an introduction and immediately left them.

Mr. Bingley, easy in new company and lively, was quick with his introduction, as well as his enthusiastic entreaty of Harriet's hand for the next set of dances. Hermione felt no slight. Her sister's vibrant green eyes and fair complexion contrasted so perfectly with her raven hair, it was a rare man who was not instantly entranced by her unique beauty.

Mr. Darcy was all that was generous and indiscriminate in his refusals to be introduced to any lady. He spent his time stalking about the assembly room, glaring with disdain at everything and everybody. The night had not half passed before his never-desired title as most eligible catch was swiftly transferred, by undisclosed proxy, to the amiable Mr. Bingley.

"What a pity his friend should prove so disagreeable!" her mother later lamented as she watched Harriet dance a second set with Mr. Bingley. "So much more handsome and richer, 'tis a pity your sister could not tempt him."

Hermione caught her shock in her throat. "Mama, whatever can you mean?"

Mrs. Bennet sighed. "I am not so old as some people might think, missy! A woman would have to be dead and buried not to appreciate such a fine face and figure as Mr. Darcy's!" She sighed again. "Although I must admit, I have always been partial to men with his features; those chocolate curls and warm brown eyes! He has such a masculine cleft in his chin, and when he smiles, goodness, Hermione! Can even _you _be unaffected by those dimples?"

She blinked several times, ogling her mother as if she had grown three heads and a tail. "You saw Mr. Darcy smile?" she uttered in complete seriousness.

While Mrs. Bennet continued to enumerate Mr. Darcy's attributes, Hermione attempted to disabuse herself of the evidence of what she saw, and what her mother was espousing. She felt herself in serious danger of bursting out in uncontrollable laughter when a sudden suspicion overcame her. She gently grasped the garnet cross that lay below her throat and whispered "_Aperio_".

A fog in her eyes created the vision that her mother and all other non-magical people in the room were seeing: Mr. Darcy was enveloped in a clever spell. His height and figure were little altered, for he was genuinely a tall, lean man, yet his other features were replaced by all her mother had described.

_"What abominable pride and deceitfulness!"_

She admitted his true looks were anything but welcoming, but to trick her friends and neighbours so blatantly, was beyond the pale.

_"And that nose! I do not know if ten thousand a year could buy you a bride who would overlook such misfortune as **that **nose, Mr. Darcy!"_

However, such deserved chastisements were obscured by the realisation she must now warn Harriet and the Lucases that a clever wizard of dubious intent prowled their ball.

Emotions so raw and engrossing rendered her unprepared when suddenly the object of her silent tirade, as if somehow hearing her outrageous indignation, was coldly staring at her from across the long room. She felt the pin-prickles of the interloper tentatively stroking the edges of i her /i consciousness.

Years of lessons with her father instantly engaged and images of the dancers, her sister's hair and the lace on Mrs. Hurst's gown filled her head.

Still he persisted.

She continued to try to persuade him of her innocent nature; the memory of sitting upon a grassy bank along the bubbling stream near Netherfield House coming forth. The sun shone brightly and a sublime breeze flickered through the tendrils of the chestnut curls she had let down her back. Her memory self set to work on removing her shoes, reached under her skirts to unroll her stockings, then dipped her bare feet joyfully into the cooling summer water.

Hermione was mortified he was seeing her revealed knees to toes, and quickly brought up a more modest image of the stillroom in her father's house, careful to avoid the corners where ingredients of a 'less than lavender water nature' might be visible, until she felt his intrusion slowly slink away.

Her fan snapped open upon the broken connection and she was forced once again to bring herself under regulation.

_"I will not allow such a false, offensive man to know me! You may be quite the mind reader sir, but you have met your match in me."_ Her face broke into a mischievous smile after some moments as she plotted her battle to bring the haughty and deceitful Mr. Darcy to his knees. She once again reached for the garnet cross that lay across her bosom chanting, "_Femina Mediocris_,". The air around her quiet corner crackled faintly.

Lady Molly Lucas stood nearby and could not help, as she was always busying herself with the goings on of those around her, but comment on Hermione's sudden change in appearance. "My dear, is there some logic to your purposely hiding your true lovely image from the wizards among us? I hardly think you will recommend yourself to anyone, looking as you do now."

"Why, Lady Lucas, I thought it was a _costume_ ball, and I would disguise myself as an old spinster governess! Moreover, I can assure you there is no one here tonight to whom I would wish to excite with my supposed comeliness. Those who know me already will merely laugh at my joke, and any new acquaintance will be dissuaded from pursuing me by my… shall we say extreme lack of beauty? In all, a rather perfect evening!"

" 'Mione, take care. You know that to reveal yourself to strangers is not wise. We all must do our best to fit in with those who are not of our world, and wait to see if the newcomers are worthy of knowing what we are. I will speak with my family not to draw attention to you, but please do not take any unnecessary risks for any of us. Not all wizards are good, my dear."

She clasped Lady Lucas' hand firmly, and told her of the recent revelation of Mr. Darcy's spell. The Bingley party's potential of also being magical was the next logical suspicion and they both agreed to spread the word of caution to the wizarding families in attendance.

Lady Lucas sought out her congenial husband who was endeavouring to discover the unending secrets of a new muggle fascination called crop rotation from a local farmer. The dance had ended, prompting Mrs. Bennet to entreat Harriet to a secluded spot where they could talk of all that occurred, and allowed Hermione to give her sister the warning.

Much later, Hermione was obliged to sit out for lack of a dancing partner and could not help the next sounds which reached her ears.

"Your imitation of Death in the shadows needs work, Darcy. You look more like a member of the House of Lords with bad digestion. Come and dance. At least you can do that tolerably well without hope of embarrassing me."

"If you mean to be amusing, Bingley, you really must try harder," a rich, deep voice returned.

"I mean to make **you **be reasonable. Come and dance."

"I beg you not to importune me to such torture. Your sisters are already engaged, i you /i have monopolized the only fair lady and standing up with any other woman in the room would be punitive in the extreme. Go back to your pretty partner, I am not worth your pestering."

"She is my dark angel! I have never met a woman so bewitching!"

"Careful of your words, my friend."

Mr. Bingley chose to ignore the bait. "One of her sisters is just over there. Allow me to introduce you. I daresay she is very agreeable and would make an excellent partner."

Mr. Darcy turned to look briefly in Hermione's direction before replying to his friend, "Really Bingley, if you force me into a dance of obliviation with such a creature I shall never forgive you."

"Obliviation? Do you not mean obligation?"

"No, obliviation. For if you force me to dance with such a plain, empty-headed ninny, I shall demand you obliviate **me **afterwards. I have seen into her head; ribbons, lace and paddling in the local streams! A woman has little more than her fleeting beauty, so if you must offer, please do me the small favour of finding a girl who would not be a punishment to look upon, or at the very least, knows how to bathe properly. Now return to your celestial Harriet Bennet and enjoy her smiles. You are wasting precious dancing time with me."

"I cannot dance with her again, I have already asked twice. To do more would break with propriety."

"Good heavens!" His voice lowered to a dangerous hum; thick and wicked in its intent, "Are you not a wizard? Dance all night with her, if you like. We can certainly make this wretched group of muggles fail to remember it later. Now go and enjoy your evening and seek me out before we leave. I shall tell your relations of your plans."

"I do not wish to do anything untoward to Miss Bennet. I will not dance with her again. Please do not … please try to be civil, Darcy," he begged meekly. The gentleman simply raised a calculating brow, causing Bingley to sigh in exasperation, "Perhaps I should simply ask you not to hex anyone?"

"I believe that can be arranged."

Hermione did not hesitate to retell the account of Mr. Darcy's slight with great enthusiasm for the rest of the evening. Her friend's laughter, more intense due to the self-inflicted 'Plain Jane' spell she had cast upon herself, was heard throughout the hall.

However delighted she might have been in the reception of her tale, i retribution /i for the insult to her and indeed, all womankind, was not far from Hermione's mind. She observed, with no small satisfaction and pride, how a certain wizard's appearance slowly began a most unusual and disturbing transformation, drawing the attention of those not magically gifted who had not previously known the pleasure of his _true_ countenance.

"Does Mr. Darcy's hair appear to have… straightened, Mrs. Bennet?" a neighbour noticed.

Mrs. Bennet agreed the glorious curls were no more. "Perhaps he used hair irons and the heat of this room caused it to be limp?"

The woman agreed it was a possibility. Why it was so much darker now, defied understanding, and therefore was not thought on again.

A lady nearby was overheard saying, "His nose is certainly not as fine as I once thought. In fact I would say it is rather overly-generous, now I look to it."

The final blow to render Mr. Darcy's masquerade inadequate happened as the ball was closing. Bingley was behaving in his typical way; chagrined at the evening's enjoyments ending so soon and Darcy was amusing himself at his friend's expense. But when the tease came, and the previously enchanting smile was instead replaced by a lifeless grimace of crooked teeth and, horrors of horrors, complete lack of dimples, his character was decided: he was the most odious man on earth and they hoped never to see him again.

"Welcome to Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy," Hermione said to herself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Story Disclaimer:** This story is based off characters, situations and locations owned and created by J. K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing, Raincoast Books, Warner Brothers or any other company that own copyright to the Harry Potter series. The story may include characters and locations owned/created by other parties including but not limited to Joss Whedon, George Lucas, Lucasfilm, Fox, Paramount, Random House, Penguin Putnam, Inc., Ballantine Books, and a variety of other people. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Pride Prejudice and Potions**

**Chapter Two**

Straddling the delicate divide between the magical and muggle communities, while difficult, presented little trouble for people with the sufficient income. _Those_ fortunates lived both in fashionable townhouses in London and at their elegant country estates. However, for the majority of wizarding families, only one locale in a single dwelling was possible.

Mr. Bennet, the master of Longbourn, cared little for London, commonly called Town, preferring his quiet country existence where he could dabble with his potions, tinker with new inventions or read in his excellent library. His family had been established as the principal landowners in the area for generations, and he quite enjoyed his life as modest country squire. He was a strange combination of capricious wit, whimsy, and startling brilliance. He could also be said to be inattentive to the running of his estate, selectively deaf to his wife's complaints and hermit-like in his ability to disappear for days inside his private rooms.

The only person granted the privilege of his company during his 'independent' times was his daughter Hermione. While Harriet was the more beautiful of the two, and would always hold a special place in Mr. Bennet's heart as his firstborn, it was his youngest daughter who shared the special bond that often happens between parent and child. Hermione was his equal in sharpness of mind, unbounded imagination and sheer exuberance for life. Her presence in his sanctuary was in no way disturbing, and often preferred to her absence.

He was about to escape to his haven when his family returned from the ball.

* * *

"And his friend, Mr. Darcy, at first seemed so very promising, but proved to be a most deplorablevexingman!" Mr. Bennet's wife informed him after most all the other intricacies of the night's festivities had been dissected. "I don't care if he does have ten thousand pounds a year, he can take every shilling back with him to his great northern estate and see just how well it keeps his cold heart warm through a long winter's night. We shall not mourn his loss." 

Mr. Bennet was now intrigued. The fine jewels Mr. Bingley's sisters wore were nothing to a potential rich dandy with inexplicably bad manners. He bade her continue.

"He would not be introduced to anyone the whole of the evening! Not one lady!" She complained.

"And what he said about poor Hermione! I shall never excuse his rudeness!"

Mr. Bennet's claret hovered in mid-rise. "Something unforgivablewas uttered about your youngest, my dear?"

"He said Hermione would be a punishment to look upon and refused to be introduced or dance with her!"

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She had not mentioned Mr. Darcy's comments about splashing in local streams or bathing properly. Such insults were the folly duels of honour were fought over and she would not risk her father over the trivial opinions of an arrogant man.

"He is undeserving of your time, Mama," Hermione tried to assure. "I am sure his disinterest in me is no slight to us, just proof of his lack of worthiness to be better known. I am positive we need never meet Mr. Darcy again."

Mrs. Bennet was happy to hear her daughter's dismissal of the man and launched into a winded speech about the gowns of the ladies in attendance, providing Mr. Bennet the means to escape. He had not been as inattentive as a casual observer might have expected, and with a decided silent command with his head to his favourite, excused himself.

* * *

"Mama has retired for the evening," Hermione said twenty minutes later as she entered her father's refuge and took up the small knife next to him. She minced the ingredients finely and measured the proper amount unto a paper. 

He deftly took it from her, slowly tipped them into his cauldron and picked up his wand. "Six hundred clockwise?"

She looked to their notes before nodding.

"I am wondering how any man could have the opinion that either of my daughters would be difficult to look upon," he said, continuing his stirring.

She had always marvelled at his talent of holding detailed conversations even whilst rapidly employing his hands, and counting in his head. "Mr. Darcy's judgement might have been slightly persuaded to think one of the ladies was… less handsome than she really was."

His wrist did not hesitate. "Would the young lady have good reason to wish to make herself less appealing to a man of ten thousand pounds consideration?"

She laughed lightly while peeling the skin off a small bulb. "One or two?"

He peered carefully. "The colour is a bit weak; best make it two."

She expertly shred the malodorous plant for several minutes. "He is a wizard, Papa."

He regarded her with a cock of his head. She told him of Mr. Darcy's altering charm.

"Disguise when amongst muggles is hardly an offence for a wizard."

"I do not trust him."

"You did little to encourage his trust or his friendship.".

She did not wish to explain her unguarded action of assaulting Mr. Darcy, nor his counter attack against her own mind. "It is difficult to explain, but I am uneasy around him."

He looked over the mound she had created, picking out any perceived imperfections. "My dearest Hermione, you are certainly one of the cleverest witches I have ever known, but you have had little opportunity or time spent in the delicate arena of the courting game."

She stayed his hand as he was about to add the ingredients, expertly seizing one last offensive thread, then nodded for him to continue. "I hardly think courtship was on Mr. Darcy's mind tonight."

Her father continued to maintain his vigil on his potion for several minutes before he spoke again in a sagely voice,

"When I was a young lad of not more than fourteen, I met a girl whom I liked immediately. I did not realise at the time my heart had been touched; indeed, had you been able to get one word from me on the subject, I am sure I would have denied it."

He motioned nearly imperceptibly and Hermione took over, the wand never breaking stride on the stirring, while he sat to rest.

"However, the young girl was not lucky enough to be undisturbed by my … interest. I did everything I could to bother her." He smiled at the fond memory. "I believe pulling her hair was the most common affliction I tormented her with. I also remember various creatures unexpectedly made their way into the pockets of her pinafore and I was known to say less than gentlemanly things about her face, despite my fascination with it."

Hermione chuckled. "You were only a boy, Papa."

"Perhaps, yet I think the methods I employed then, are not limited by age, my dear. You lack the experience and sophistication of a lady who has moved amongst society such as in the _Ton. _You may wish to consider exactly why you are _uneasy_ around any gentleman."

They spoke no more of it, finished the potion, and he dismissed her with a kiss to her crown. She, however, stayed up well longer in the privacy of her darkened bed and pondered her father's advice.

* * *

What Albus Bennet had failed to tell his daughter, was the girl in question, Blossom Gardiner, had forgotten the lad who had teased her so horribly in her childhood when she met him again as a young woman at a local assembly ball. Later, having had the honour of dining at the Gardiner's home several times, Mr. Bennet found he was equally smitten with Blossom and her family's closely guarded recipes for outstanding desserts. Despite being silly and of little wit, he liked her vivacity and beauty, and developed a true, lasting affection for her. He proposed over a particularly fine strawberry tart and they were married three months later.

* * *

"Mr. Bingley and his sisters seemed to enjoy your company," Miss Veronica Lucas teased the eldest Miss Bennet during tea the next day. 

"I think we shall all benefit from our new neighbours," Harriet deflected.

"I hope they will at least prove worthy. I do not enjoy hiding our magic from other wizarding families."

"_If _the Bingleys are wizards. We will learn soon enough, and of their intentions in settling here."

Hermione shook her head. "You are welcome to my share of any benefits, Harriet. I gladly relinquish all claim, and intend to stay on my guard when around any of them."

"Do you think I should not befriend them? Miss Bingley and her sister were particularly attentive to me and asked if I would call upon them at Netherfield."

Hermione hugged her sister. "Dearest, you have my full leave to like the conceited sisters, even if I cannot. I do think the brother kind and handsome, though clearly, intellect is too greatly emphasised in deciding a man's character these days."

"Hermione!"

"Truly, you could do much worse; Mr. Bingley claims to both read _and_ write."

"Yes," Veronica quietly warned, " you could end up married to Fred or George." The three ladies giggled, then slyly regarded Miss Lucas' two younger brothers who sat across the room with a look of undeserved innocence on their faces.

Having served the local populace in civic duty for many years, the Lucas' father had risen to the rank of knighthood and was now **Sir** Arthur Lucas, a distinction his wife looked upon very favourably. Though the position failed to bring about an increaseof income to his family, it did not preclude Sir Arthur and Lady Lucas from acting as the premier hosts of the community.

Unfortunately, their added social engagements had left little time to keep their two youngest sons in check. While this might not have been a detriment to the family had the sons been well behaved and mild mannered, the truth was Fred and George Lucas' aptitude for finding mischief was only surpassed by their disarming ability to weasel their way out of the consequences of their actions. Unsurprisingly, the rascals were looked upon with both admiration and apprehension by most of the county.

Mrs. Bennet had handed them their teacups and was offering them a slice of a freshly baked pie, to which both boys had too eagerly agreed. Neither Hermione's perception or wand were quick enough to prevent her mother's knife from then unfortunately entering the delicacy.

Four and twenty tiny magical blackbirds flew out to the delighted shrieks of the trouble makers.

Despite their ability to instantly repair the broken jars of Lady Lucas' gift of fine raspberry preserves and return Mrs. Bennet's drawing room carpets to their proper state, she did not hesitate to box the ears of the two wizards who loudly protested they had outgrown such punishments.

The young men's morning was then completely ruined and all hopes of winning the two Miss Bennets' regard were dashed when the ladies declared themselves unimpressed: the birds had failed to sing.

* * *

Author's very large note: 

This story is straddling the precarious divide between Regency England and the modern British characters of the world of Harry Potter. Because of the wide breech, I felt it necessary to do two things:

1. Explain or be more obvious with the details of the story of Pride and Prejudice, and the customs and lifestyles of the times than I normally would for Jane Austen fans. I apologize for writing things a JA fan knows without thinking, but they are also more rare than Harry Potter fans, and I decided I must think of both sides so that all readers could keep up with the story and enjoy it.

2. Be more obvious which HP characters are playing which roles. I have no doubt the HP fans recognize everyone fairly quickly, but the JA fans need more help with the magical world, so those parts will be a bit more… elementary.

About the casting:

I chose each Harry Potter character based more on general personality traits, some looks and definitely perception of how I look at them. They aren't perfect, but I tried hard to use the most overwhelming aspects of their personalities to put them in their right spots. I know P&P intimately and started with those characters and then thought of who in the Harry Potter world could play them. In some instances, the perfect person just happened to be a boy for a girl's part. I apologize for any inadvertent emasculating, oh who am I kidding- castrating- of favourite HP hunks, it was not easy, I assure you.

About the magic:

The setting is 1811 England. I decided that most likely, magical spells, medicine and strides in the sciences would mirror the muggle world fairly closely. Therefore, the magic in this story is almost two years old. I decided many of the spells from the HP would not be invented yet, and some not even considered as electricity, communications and most modern conveniences were not invented in the muggle world. This was a world that, while certainly looking beautiful (for the life of the wealthy) , still bled a person if they were sickly too long, had women of all ages dying in childbirth and an infant mortality rate that was horrendous. So you will see many new types of magic to correspond with the lack of advances. And yes, Jane/Harriet will still catch a cold.

I am also purposely deviating from canon on the method of mind reading. Perhaps you will be willing to allow that two years ago, a select number of witches and wizards were powerful enough merely to head hop without benefit of direct eye contact? I like to think they called themselves 'third person _omniscients'_.

Please comment or ask questions if needed, especially those not familiar with the strict etiquette of the customs of nineteenth century England.

The Cast so far:

Fitzwilliam Darcy - Severus Darcy

Elizabeth Bennet - Hermione Bennet

Jane Bennet - Harriet Bennet

Charles Bingley - Cedric Bingley

Caroline Bingley-

Louisa Hurst-

Mr. Hurst

Mrs. Bennet - Blossom Gardiner Bennet

Mr. Bennet - Albus Bennet

Sir William Lucas- Sir Arthur Lucas

Lady Lucas Lady Molly Lucas

Charlotte Lucas - Veronica Lucas called Ronnie

Younger Lucases Fred and George Lucas

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Story Disclaimer:** This story is based off characters, situations and locations owned and created by J. K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Publishing, Raincoast Books, Warner Brothers or any other company that own copyright to the Harry Potter series. The story may include characters and locations owned/created by other parties including but not limited to Joss Whedon, George Lucas, Lucasfilm, Fox, Paramount, Random House, Penguin Putnam, Inc., Ballantine Books, and a variety of other people. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Pride Prejudice and Potions**

**Chapter Three**

Aversion to the practice not withstanding, **all **the inhabitants of Netherfield hall were soon introduced to the Bennet family, ladies included. However, it was much later, at a large gathering at Sir Arthur Lucas's house, which first afforded Hermione the opportunity to study her sister with Mr. Bingley and his family.

Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst had greeted Harriet with pleasure, though little rivalled in enthusiasm to their brother's tidings. Of _his_ preference there could be no doubt; he rarely left Harriet's side the whole of the evening.

"Do you still harbour doubts of him?" Miss Lucas asked as they both observed the couple.

"Of his attraction, no. However, friendship and regard are not the same as integrity, forthrightness and good principles. We still do not know of their intentions or characters."

"Your sister seems to enjoy the acquaintance."

"Indeed, and I hold my tongue," Hermione smirked at her friend's look of doubt, " _mostly_ - for her sake. But I still advise keeping on our guards."

Veronica nodded her agreement. "Speaking of guards, it seems you have acquired one of your own."

"I am sure I do not know what you mean."

"You have only to look at Mr. Darcy to understand."

Hermione would not. Instead, she grasped her friend's hand and drew her out of the room, ignoring the heated metal near her hand. She did not stop until they found themselves at the end of a long corridor, devoid of alcoves where someone might eavesdrop upon them.

"I would rather _not_ have to look at Mr. Darcy, Ronnie" she finally answered, flabbergasted.

Veronica signalled a warning finger to her lips, followed immediately by the sound, then sight of Mr. Darcy entering the hall in which he had no business being.

"Ladies," he acknowledged, then instantly retreated.

* * *

It had started soon after their introduction. Hermione's great love of walking about the various paths near her home had brought her more than once into the sudden presence of Mr. Darcy, out riding the same stallion she had seen inside his mind. The first time it happened she was shocked into silence. He gave the merest of nods and continued on his way.

The second time she was more prepared as she heard the clip-clop of his steed and gave her own bare nod to him whilst moving in the opposite direction. When a third time was imminent, she managed to hide herself in the trees and shrubs along the roadside, but distinctly heard him halt his horse, as if knowing she _should_ be in the vicinity. Afterwards, she had drawn her wand to his retreating back and called forth any stray hairs on his collar.

Just yesterday she had been out, too near Netherfield, when the metal, her new invention, began to warm against her wrist, warning her once again. She had dodged him, thanks to an obliging haystack, yet she trembled lightly when thinking of how close he had been to discovering her.

She had thought herself safe - there was no sound - and was about to walk again when the unmistakable crackle of footsteps approached her. Breathing deeply and preparing herself for an interview, she nearly cried out when an old Irish Wolf Hound rounded the stack and stopped to stare at her. They regarded one another for some time until the unmistakable _voice_ called forth: "Filch! Come along, you mangy scoundrel!" and the dog trotted off to his retreating master.

* * *

"What can he mean by coming upon me during my walks?" Hermione hissed beneath her breath to Miss Lucas. " And now he has the temerity to hang about me like a shadow over my shoulder listening in on my conversations. It is most rude!"

"I might suggest a method you _could _employ to discover what he is thinking…"

"Do not mention that possibility! No, I must call him on it, or I shall grow afraid of him, or at least of walking."

"Hermione, be still, he may yet be listening!"

She shook the delicate bracelet that had served her well these past weeks. "Cold. He is nowhere near."

Ronnie's eyes widened and she grinned. "Would you make one for me?"

"Against whom?"

"My brothers, of course."

* * *

So began an active evening for Hermione and Mr. Darcy. Unable to thrust, he nonetheless threatened and she parried by distancing herself from her foe. Her skin had felt the ill effects of constant flux of cold then heat, but the price was happily paid for by the lady.

When she seemed to have finally eluded him, she took refuge through the doors opened to the night. The moon played with the clouds and cast a variety of silver and charred beams through the barren treetops. Several people joined her outside to bask in the rare tepid autumn evening.

"What think you of the regiment quartering in Hertfordshire for the winter, Miss Hermione?" Mr. Fred Lucas asked after settling himself on a low stone wall a few feet from the house.

"Not as much as they think of themselves."

"An officer in his fine red uniform cannot excite your senses?" teased Mr. George Lucas.

"Strutting peacocks, each one striking a more ridiculous pose than the next? No, I think my delicate senses are safe from any overexertion."

"Miss Hermione Bennet thinks one should be judged by his merits, his mind and his character," George recited as one who had heard the fact many a time.

"And not on his fine figure or dashing good looks," finished Fred, who then joined his brother in his wall sitting.

"No chance for us then, brother."

"Quite so."

Hermione smiled, "Any man worth his salt should strive to earn an excellent reputation, rather than earn praise for how successful his valet trimmed his hair or be admired for a well-turned leg. Hair will grow again and our forms someday shrivel, but a reputation endures even past death. Is it too much to expect better? Especially from a gentleman," she turned around quickly towards a deep recess of the house behind them and addressed the blackness there, "Mr. Darcy?"

A cloud finished its voyage past the moon just at that moment and the man himself emerged into the moonlight. He towered over the group, yet proceeded with perfect calm, as if he had been engaged in the conversation all along, "I have often noted young ladies will claim a man's visage mattered little, yet in practice, I have rarely seen a handsome man without a dancing partner."

"One hardly requires an excellent _character_ to dance a Boulanger, sir. I would counter I have been to many a ball where a plain girl may be slighted by men without a thought."

"Perhaps the fault lies with the men, unwilling to give them a second look."

"Then you merely reinforce my opinion of the shallowness of judging someone by their looks, sir. I have also seen homely men with pretty young wives."

"Conceivably their fortunes rendered them… slightly less unappealing to their brides, Miss Bennet."

"You give little credit to what a lady might think is valuable, Mr. Darcy."

"My brother and I think _you_ of great value, Miss Hermione!" interjected Fred Lucas.

"If we can get Ronnie to open the instrument, surely you will share a bit of your wealth, madam?" added a cheeky George.

Hermione shook her head. "The two of you are hardly going to acquit your sex with such flirtations and cajoling."

They protested, yet persevered till she gave in. "I shall be happy to acquiesce as I would welcome the warmth of your drawing room once again. If you will excuse us, Mr. Darcy, it seems _this_ lady's worth is limited to her ability to entertain and I am not unwilling to sing for my supper."

* * *

Her performance was politely received by all and while not as technically proficient as some ladies were capable of, was pleasing to hear due to the genuine feeling she always imputed into her playing. Her only complaint would have been the scrutiny she detected from a certain looming wizard.

Hermione wondered at the wisdom in allowing her _Mediocris _charm to fade these past weeks. In addition to the frequent meetings about the countryside, she had caught Mr. Darcy, more often than not, staring at her. She feared he might suspect she was a witch now that her looks were restored and therefore much improved since the ball.

She also observed he no longer used _his _concealment spell and would have been delighted to know it was her usurpation of his magic at the ball which forced him to give it up entirely.

Tea was later served and Hermione and Veronica took the opportunity to sequester themselves into a secluded nook. They had barely begun their conversation when her bracelet interrupted them. Hermione's face betrayed her very great annoyance at yet again being spied upon.

"I fear I shall have to ask your forgiveness, my dear Ronnie," she begged as she reached for the charmed pendant around her throat and whispered several spells.

Miss Lucas nearly jumped from her seat as the cup and saucer she had previously been holding were transformed into a tiny dormouse and a large orange tabby.

The mouse, being in a significantly more precarious position, did not wait an instance to leap from Veronica's lap and scurry around the corner. The cat, who was unfortunately more interested in the plate of sweets sitting next to Miss Lucas, failed to see his dinner below him, and therefore missed the opportunity for immediate alimentary gratification.

"Tom," Hermione called.

The cat looked up.

"That way, if you please," she commanded with a tilt of her head to the corner and the cat was off.

* * *

The ladies quickly moved away from the area, attempting to ignore the sounds of a desperate squeak, a loud snarl, and someone bumping several times into a wall. They circumnavigated the entire house and perched themselves at the opposite end of the hall their spy was trapped inside, eager to watch the folly.

Alas, by then the gentleman had had quite enough of his role as impromptu maypole and was just kicking the cat when the ladies appeared. In a feat of unexpected bravery, the dormouse then belied her paltry size and ferociousness by immediately latching onto the perilous white stockings of said man, and refusing to dislodge herself.

The ladies might have found the spectacle one of the most amusing of their lives had not the brutish owner of the stockings waved a long menacing hand at the furry heroine who then dissolved in a wisp of charcoal smoke.

"_That was Lady Lucas' best china!" _thought an indignant Hermione.

* * *


End file.
